


Special Delivery

by katayla



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Betsy-Tacy Series - Maud Hart Lovelace
Genre: Crossover, Epistolary, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 09:28:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5451728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katayla/pseuds/katayla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pen pals are a wonderful thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Special Delivery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blueorangecrush](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueorangecrush/gifts).



> Thank you to my beta!

**7 Canoe Place  
** Minneapolis, Minnesota  
October 15, 1920 

Dear Miss Blythe,

I hope you do not find it too strange or off-putting to receive a letter from a stranger. I met a friend of yours, Mrs. Mary Douglas, and she assured me that you and I ought to be correspondents. As I never can resist an invitation to write, I took down your address and promised I'd send you a letter of introduction.

So, hello, Miss Blythe. My name is Mrs. Betsy Willard and I _do_ hope you will call me Betsy. Given names are so much friendlier, don't you think? My husband's name is Joe and please forgive me if I mention him to excess. He has been home six months now, and his awful newspaper sent him away from me yesterday. He's a newspaper man, you see, and so talented that they've sent him off to cover our election. I was so driven to distraction that I went to Minnehaha Falls to get out of the house, and that is where I met your friend, Mary.

Her suggestion that I write to you was just the thing to keep my mind off my worries. You see, I am a writer. I've been selling stories to magazines since college, but Joe has convinced me to try my hand at a novel. Only--I can't seem to work on it, when he is away from me.

I know I shouldn't complain, when I am so lucky to have him returned safely to me, but the war seems to have stolen my complacency. Sometimes, even when he is only at the office, I can't bear to stay alone at home, so I run away to one of my friend's houses. Tacy has three children now!

Oh, but you don't know Tacy. She is my dearest friend. We grew up across the street from one another and our friendship has never faltered. Her husband didn't go to war because of the children, but she understands me just the same. She lets me hug her baby girl and keeps me company all day long. Then I run home to Joe, and we write together all evening.

Mary tells you me you are to be married soon. I suppose I should offer some wise married woman advice, so here it is: **LEARN TO COOK**. Poor Joe had to suffer through many burned meals. When he went to war, I wished--but then! Perhaps you already know how to cook. I shouldn't assume others are as ignorant as I.

It is getting dark here now, and I must run off to my friend Carney's house. My friends are so good to me! I think they have organized between them that I never spend a night alone while Joe is away.

Oh, I _do_ hope you you wish to correspond.

Sincerely yours,  
Betsy

**Ingleside  
** Glen St. Mary, P.E.I.  
October 22, 1920 

Dear Betsy,

I would adore corresponding! I wrote so many letters during the war and now with all my dear boys home, I find myself writing more and more in my journal. It would be wonderful to write to someone who writes back! And you must call me Rilla, of course. Properly my name is Bertha Marilla, but I have been Rilla all my life.

Yes, I am to be married in the spring. We wanted to be married sooner, but I'm young, you see, and the first of my siblings to be married, and our families want to make a big celebration of it. 

My fiance's name is Ken. He's also been back for about six months. We grew up together, but I was so much younger that he made a pest of himself until right before the war, so we had very little time together before he left. He was almost a stranger when he came back, but he was _my_ stranger, and he says it was the same for him. I think it was all decided the night he returned to me, though it was a few weeks before he gave me a ring.

It is strange and wonderful, wandering together with Ken in Rainbow Valley. Rainbow Valley is the little valley by Ingleside (my family house), and my siblings and I grew up playing there. Ken would come in the summers and he and my brothers would call me Spider and, OH, I hated him. Only--I didn't.

Well. Rainbow Valley was the site of my childhood, and, then, the site of so many tears during the war. And it has remained unchanged through all those years. It is only we who have changed. I've been thinking a lot about change. I had a brother who died in the war, and his last letter urged me to remember what we fought for and live and . . . be happy. 

I am not ambitious--I am the only one of my brothers and sisters not to go to college--but I hope I can keep faith and teach my children how to make this a better world. Is it indelicate to mention children? Somehow, such sensibilities seem silly now, and, oh, I do want children!

At such a confession, I suppose I should bring this letter to a close. I look forward to hearing from you.

Yours,

Rilla.

*several letters omitted*

**7 Canoe Place  
** Minneapolis, Minnesota  
March 2, 1921 

Rilla,

Is Ken ever melancholy with you? When we were first married, Joe's low moods worried me terribly, but they are nothing compared to now. It's like he goes someplace else in his mind. I touched him once in such a mood, and he startled so badly that I never dared to again. Sometimes he doesn't hear me when I say his name, and so we sit there in the dark for what feels like hours.

I don't know what to do. Carney says Sam acts more the jokester than ever, but his heart doesn't seem in it. Tib is worried because Jack won't talk about his arm at all. And I know I shouldn't be pouring this out to you, so close to your wedding, but somehow it is easier to write it all down than try to put in spoken words.

I apologize for the shortness of this letter. I'm afraid if I stare at this page much longer, I will burst into tears and the paper will be too waterlogged for you to read it.

Yours,  
Betsy

**Rilla Blythe to Betsy Willard  
** March 9, 1921  


Yes, Ken is melancholy sometimes. Sometimes, when we're talking about the future, he will stop, and it's like he can't imagine such a thing is possible. I mentioned having children one day and he shook his head and said that he hoped it would happen. It's as if he is waiting for something terrible to take all of this away from him.

We are so happy, most of the time, but I think he finds it hard to trust. Has Joe told you much about the war? Ken used to, in letters, but now he says he doesn't want bring the darkness home with him. I am not sure he is right. Shouldn't we bring the darkness into the light? Isn't that how you destroy it?

I think the fighting didn't end when the war did. We can't give in to the despair. If we do, then we're the ones who lost.

**Betsy Willard to Rilla Blythe  
** March 16, 1921  


Joe will speak to me, sometimes, after writing it in a story. I think the writing helps him. He puts into words some of what he saw and it's like a little of the darkness lifts. I think, maybe, that is his way of fighting.

I want him to write a book, but he feels like it's too much of a commitment. Like Ken, he seems not to trust in the future.

**Rilla Blythe to Betsy Willard  
March 21, 1921**

I have tried to escape the wedding planning as much as I could, but Mother and Susan trapped me in the kitchen today, and overwhelmed me with details. I am to wear my mother's veil and I'm making my dress. The Rilla of before the war would laugh at that. Sewing seemed so beyond me! But now it only seems right that I stitch my own happiness into my gown.

We are inviting everyone any of us have ever known, it seems. One of my mother's old college friends is coming in from Japan. I have never met her, but I won't say no to additional good wishes.

**Betsy Willard to Rilla Ford  
April 21, 1921**

My dearest Rilla,

I wish you all the love and happiness in the world.

Love,

Betsy

**Rilla Ford to Betsy Willard  
** June 15, 1921  


Betsy, oh, being married is wonderful, and yet . . . does Joe have nightmares? Ken slept quietly during our honeymoon, but now he tosses and turns all night. And he won't talk to me about it at all.

**Betsy Willard to Rilla Ford  
June 22, 1921**

Joe doesn't toss and turn, but some mornings I look at him and I can tell he hasn't slept. I've told him to wake me up when he can't sleep, but he says it's no use having both of us sleep deprived.

I _want_ to be sleep deprived with him. There! Isn't that a strange declaration of love? I will be with him though health, sickness, and sleeplessness!

*several letters omitted*

**Rilla Ford to Betsy Willard  
October 23, 1921**

I think Ken and I are going to have a baby. We're visiting Ingleside and I've taken to sneaking into my father's study and reading his medical books. I want to be _sure_ before I say anything to Ken. He's been so much calmer recently and I don't want to disappoint him.

**Betsy Willard to Rilla Ford  
November 7, 1921**

Congrats.  
Betsy

 

I'm sorry, Rilla. I wrote the above last night and showed it into an envelope, and left it on the desk to post in the morning. But come morning, I was ashamed of myself, and tore it out of the envelope to write a proper letter. I'm not throwing away what I wrote because you and I have always been honest with each other and I don't want to lose that. 

OF COURSE I am happy for you. I hope you are correct and you have already told Ken and the two of you are lost in the ecstasy of joy. My turn will come someday.

Your dear friend, who is not always such a jealous monster,

Betsy

**Rilla Ford to Betsy Willard  
November 13, 1921**

Betsy,

Do you wish to talk about it? You know I will hear anything you wish to say.

Ken is overjoyed! I worried the dark moments would overwhelm him, but he is full of plans for the baby. We meant to wait to tell the family, but the news traveled quickly and everyone knew before we left Ingleside. Jem is full of advice from medical school, and Susan says to tell him that if I wouldn't listen to Father with Jims, then I'm sure to ignore everything he says.

Well, Morgan _did_ do a good job with Jims. (It was wonderful visiting Mother and Father and being so close to Jims for a spell. I wish Mrs. Anderson was a good a correspondent as you are.)

Do you want to hear about this? I am so used to sharing everything with you, but I don't wish to hurt you.

Yours,  
Rilla

**Betsy Willard to Rilla Ford  
November 20, 1921**

Rilla,

Please talk to me. I told you--I am a jealous monster. Tib is having a baby, too, and you caught me at a low moment. Joe and I have been married for seven years now, and even if he was away for some of that time, I feel that something has gone wrong for us.

We had it planned. We were going to have a daughter named Bettina. During the war, we would write about her in our letters as if she already existed. "Do you think Bettina would like this?" "Let's not pressure Bettina to become a writer like us."

When Joe came home, we both thought Bettina would come right away. Maybe we counted on it too much. If we had Bettina, we would know everything was all right.

It's been over a year, and there is no sign of her. Even Julia is hinting at news in her letters, and I feel so alone. What if she never comes? Joe and I have been so happy together that it seems greedy to wish for more, but oh Rilla. It is hard sometimes.

And there! I have selfishly filled this letter with talk about myself, instead of rejoicing over your news. A baby! You will be an excellent mother, Rilla, and I wish you and Ken all the joy of parenthood.

**Rilla Ford to Betsy Willard  
November 28, 1921**

Betsy, of course you are not a monster! You would make a good mother, and I am very sorry that you are not one yet. Have you been to a doctor? I wish you lived here. The villagers consider my father a miracle worker. Perhaps he could help you.

I won't be one of those detestable people who go on and on with advice and suggestions you've already thought of. I will simply be your friend, thinking good thoughts for you and Joe and Bettina. Yes, she _will_ exist.

Love,  
Rilla

**Betsy Willard to Rilla Ford  
December 5, 1921**

I am afraid to go to the doctor. I'm not sure either of us could bear it if the doctor took away the hope of Bettina entirely. It's all so easy for everyone else.

I've had a pretty lucky life, you see, and it took me a long time to realize it. I wasn't prepared to handle the war and being away from Joe. Even now, I want to stomp my feet on the ground and yell, "It's not fair!" like Tacy's boys do. All of our friends are wrapped up in their children and Joe and I have our writing, but sometimes I'll catch myself sketching down an idea for a children's story, and I'm not thinking of my Bettina anymore. It's all for Tacy's children or Carney's. Maybe I'll send your baby stories.

Before the war, Joe and I planned to travel, maybe live in New York or Boston for a bit. Now everything has changed. We would love our baby so much. Would God be so cruel as to keep her from us?

**Rilla Ford to Betsy Willard  
December 12, 1921**

Betsy, never think such things! Remember all the promises we made after the war to cling to happiness? I _won't_ let you give up on your dreams. Go hug Tacy's Beth and play with her boys, and imagine how it'll be for you and Bettina and Joe.

*several letters omitted*

**Betsy Willard to Rilla Ford  
August 15, 1922**

RILLA, I SOLD MY BOOK!

I didn't even tell you I'd finished it. Nobody knew except for Joe. I was too afraid that, oh, the editors would send it back to me torn in pieces. (Joe says I'm to tell you that no editor worth his salt would have dared turn it down!)

It's been a hard year, and I've begun to doubt everything about myself. I was afraid that even my writing would let me down.

But oh, Rilla, if I can still write, can other dreams be so far behind?

**Rilla Ford to Betsy Willard  
August 22, 1922**

Congratulations, Betsy! Ken and I are overjoyed for you! I'm sure Little Gil would also send his wishes, if only he could stop crying!

May all your wishes come true.

**Betsy Willard to Rilla Ford  
** August 29, 1922  


I feel like I've crossed some border into the land where hopes come true. Oh, Rilla. Today, I believe anything can happen.

**Betsy Willard to Rilla Ford  
May 22, 1923**

Announcing the birth of Bettina Anastasia Willard.

(Rilla, I have never been so happy!)


End file.
